I had been summoned to the medical suite at my office at the end of the Friday dayshift of my second week on the job, and I showed up with a great sense of trepidation. It had been hard finding this job, and I just had to keep it. But I'd scored drugs for a short time when I'd been in college, and I knew this company had a strict drug policy. I hoped that they hadn't found out about that—or that they wouldn't find out about it in this surprise appointment.
"Come in here, take off all your clothes, and sit up on that table," a perky young nurse told me. "The doctor will be in to see you in a minute."
"Take off all my clothes?" I asked dubiously.
"Yes. Don't worry. I go off shift now. It will be just you and the doctor."
"Great," I thought, as I followed her direction. I didn't know why I felt self-conscious. I was in great shape and wouldn't have minded the cute little nurse knowing just how great shape I was in and how well-hung I was.
But I was in shock when the doctor walked in. It was Larry, my boss, the owner of the company.
"Mr. Sturgis," I stammered. "What . . .?"
"Oh, didn't you know," the handsome young redhead said, "I'm the company doctor too. It saves a lot on the medical bills. Now, let's see what we have here. Everything seems to be in order and in good shape. Yes, in very good shape, I'd say. Here, put this in your mouth and cough for me."
He stuck a wooden tongue depressor in my mouth, and I coughed for him. He ran long, elegant fingers up and down the sides of my neck and prodded around the top of my breast bone. Then, in turn, he lifted my arms, pushed a finger up into my arm pits and gave my arm muscles a good feel.
"OK, very good there," he said. He whipped out a stethoscope and listened to my chest.
"Take deep breaths and hold them," he said. His stethoscope went to one nipple, and he laid his hand over the other one.
"Cough," he commanded. I obliged.
Then after a long time, he reversed the stethoscope and the hand over the other nipple and commanded me to cough again. I obliged again, hoping he hadn't noticed that my nipples were hardening up from the attention.
"Good full chest," he said. "Lungs seem fine. Not a smoker, are you?"
"No," I answered too quickly. That had been another one of my vices in college. But I'd also been on the swim team and had developed a deep chest and lungs.
His hands glided down the sides of my torso, and he put one palm over my belly and left it there for a minute. I had no idea what sort of new examination technique this was, but I was mortified that it was causing me to have a half-hardon.
He had a hand on my balls, and I flinched as he rolled them.
"Cough," he commanded, and I did so.
"Everything seems in fine shape here," he said. "In fine shape."
He had his hand on my dick and was flopping it around gently. "Get it off regularly?" he asked.
"Uh, yes, regularly enough," I answered. "Uh, Mr. Sturgis. I mean Dr. Sturgis . . ."
